


Don’t Bother Me

by Soul_Shuffler



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 5 times + 1 time, Cute, Fluff, Hamburg Era, M/M, Slight sickness, basically a loads of one shots that link up, but in the 21st Century, modern Beatles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22227688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul_Shuffler/pseuds/Soul_Shuffler
Summary: When John and Paul heard the news that their little 50’s themed band was heading off to play in Hamburg, they thought it’d be the perfect opportunity to shag whenever they liked without any dads, brothers or aunties coming in unexpectedly.It’s not until they get there that they realise they now can’t find a single quiet time alone together.
Relationships: George Harrison & John Lennon & Paul McCartney & Ringo Starr, George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon & Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 27
Kudos: 69





	1. All I’ve Got To Do Is Dream

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’m back! I’ve been writing when I’ve wanted to stop stressing about exams and once I’ve had enough of revision and so this has happened. It’s the boys in Hamburg, except in 2020. Most Hamburg fics I’ve read, I dunno they’re almost always quite depressing, which I love, but I just wanted to do something a bit different. 
> 
> I have all the chapters mostly written, I just need to go back over and edit them, so I’ll post one every day, starting today!
> 
> I hope you like my take on their stay in Hamburg and I hope that you think I’ve got the characters right. Enjoy!

When Paul heard the news that his and Johns band (because they’d agreed that yes, John was the leader, but without Paul, John would still be playing banjo chords) were heading off to Hamburg to play on the Reeperbahn for the next few months, he’d been thrilled for many reasons.

Firstly, because he’d heard lots about the music scene over there and how small bands were making it big. He had been determined from the start to make the Beatles the biggest thing since Elvis, and knowing they were going where the music was thriving made Paul’s plan to be successful more of a reality than a dream.

Secondly, because it meant hanging out with his bandmates and other friends from Liverpool who were heading over, like Rory Storm and the Hurricanes. It simply meant Paul was going to undeniably have the best fucking time of his life.

And finally, because he was going over with John, the love of his life of nearly 3 years, which he’d counted as the biggest reason yet, not only because it meant hanging out with his boyfriend every day for weeks, but because they’d finally get some much needed alone time together.

Now, don’t get Paul wrong - it wasn’t that he wasn’t getting any. Far from it. It was just that it seemed every time they decided that they’d make love for real, they’d be continuously interrupted. They’d had Paul’s dad, Mike, George and even Mimi (and wasn’t that half terrifying) walking in on them doing something risqué and it was starting to get on Paul’s nerves.

He just had needs - like when John would come out of the shower dripping wet, or when John got sweaty and tipsy on stage, or when John put his bloody Buddy Holly glasses on it would just set Paul off. He was a randy bastard already, he knew, but not having John to fulfil his desires was making everything about his boyfriend, who was undoubtedly the most beautiful man Paul had ever seen, even more sexy.

So, Paul had decided that he was determined their little trip to the Red-Light District was going to definitely make his and Johns sex life really take off.

***

It was night once they’d finally tugged their luggage all the way up to Grosse Freiheit street, with Stu complaining loudly behind them and Pete huffing out of breath. After meeting the owner of the club they would be playing in, Paul and George had a stuttered conversation in a mix of German and English with the guy, until they got across that they were the vintage band that he’d been looking forward to meeting, and that they wanted to go see their room. They were told that they were staying at the Bambi Cinema. John gasped.

“They knew we were coming - they named the place after your eyes, Pud,” John said. Paul giggled at his boyfriend while they smiled affectionately at each other. George just rolled his eyes behind Johns back and Pete groaned - Paul wasn’t sure if it was because John was being too grossly over romantic already when they hadn’t even been here a day yet, or whether it was at the idea of having to carry his load of stuff further than he thought.

They used John’s google maps on his phone to navigate the side streets of the Reeperbahn, gaping at the very obvious signs that indicated prostitution inside the different establishments and the advertisement for them, which was half naked girls standing outside. Paul noticed that under their makeup and fake smiles they looked freezing and instantly wanted to go give them a blanket or something to warm up. He realised it wasn’t actually dissimilar to little Liddypool, which he found comforting, and it wasn’t too long until they were making fun of all the similarities between them. 

After getting lost when John took a wrong turn because he was too busy looking at a mostly naked lady just casually walking past, they finally stumbled inside an old, rundown looking building. 

It wasn’t until he saw the sleeping arrangements that Paul found out his important goal was going to be much harder to achieve than he’d thought. The building contained two dimly lit, windowless rooms that were connected openly with a large archway, which were next to the cinema's mens toilet, with no pillows, bed sheets or bathroom. 

“Oh,” Stu said quietly. Everyone else stayed quiet.

Paul was the first one to move into the room, using his phones torch to see what they’d been given properly as there was no light switch. It wasn’t the Ritz, but they weren’t out on the streets either. Paul understood that to become world famous musicians they’d have to have a few bad times on the way, and Johnny’s pep talk always set them right in the end. He considered the beds quietly, before claiming the one in the back corner of the room. 

“Mine!”

That made the others spring into action, trying to decide which bed would be the next best one and bagsying it. John just put his bag down and strolled slowly over to Paul.

“Ours?” He suggested, and Paul smiled and nodded. John smiled back and leaned in for a kiss.

“No way! Right, before we even decide beds - I’m puttin’ down rules!” George shouted, “There will be NO sexual activities anywhere near me bed, on me bed or while I’m in the room. And yes, I’m looking at you McLennon.”

“But Geo-“

“No buts! You’ve scarred me for life already! I do not want more reasons to wan’ ta kill you than I already do. Don’t. Do. It.”

“Alright... fine. Kisses are ok though, right?” Paul asked. John put his arm round his waist then and started kissing his neck as a very, very good example of a kiss, if you asked Paul. His eyes shut involuntarily.

“No! Stop it! You can ‘ave a peck on the lips, at the most, but please try and warn me before any-“

“At the most!?” Paul exclaimed.

“He’s got a point, McCartney. I don’t wan’ ta be openly seein’ anythin’ naked below the waist. And tha’ goes for you two, John,” Stu stated. 

“Mate, you’ve already seen me doin’ far worse,” John said.

“And I don’t wan’ ta be havin’ to see anymore horrors! And fuck off bein’ so romantic all the time - you’ve never been the same John since you met Paul with you bein’ all loved up and shit - it’s honestly makin’ me wanna gag, mate.”

He landed with a loud thump on the bed furthest away from Paul’s while John laughed loudly at Stu’s apparent annoyance. Pete, after amusedly watching the conversation that had just taken place, decided his safest option was also to be as far away from the Gruesome Twosome as possible. He jumped heavily on the bed next to Stu’s.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” George grumbled once he realised he’d be sleeping right next to his favourite couple. He shot everyone a nasty glare from under his thick eyebrows. 

Whilst the others all started unpacking, John pulled Paul back down on the bed with him, and they cuddled up in their little corner. Paul realised then that it was actually quite cold in the room without any sort of blanket to put over them, and grabbed the next best thing - their flags they’d brought from home. He covered the both of them the best he could, lied his head on Johns chest and closed his eyes while the other got out his phone and started playing Candy Crush lazily. He almost didn’t hear John when he whispered it, but when he did he started to laugh silently into his boyfriend’s leather jacket, trying not to aggravate George again.

“Don’t worry, luv. He’s didn’t say anything about not doing stuff when he was asleep.”


	2. Be-Bop-A-Lula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band gets used to playing the long nights in Hamburg

After the band had realised they’d be playing for over 7 hours every night, they had put up quite a fuss. But the owner had been resilient and the group resigned themselves to the fact that they were probably going to be dead on their feet by the time they went back to England. The prellies helped significantly, of course, but it meant that the boys crashed hard once the pills wore off.

Even still, they loved it. Paul had noticed that their playing was getting better and better, which he counted as a win, as it meant they were one step nearer to being properly successful. Their sets were insane - in between loud rock’n’roll, they had women stripping naked on stage while they’d play a soft tune in the back, there were multiple bar fights, and after a few weeks, girls from everywhere were coming to see them.

They fawned over mysterious, handsome Pete in the back; edgy, dark Stu; rowdy and hilarious John; quiet but funny George and pretty and cute Paul. With the band wearing leather every night, their hair up in the teddy style, and their pink cowboy boots flashing in the overhead lights, they were massive for their sex appeal and both boys and girls came crowding round the stage, screaming along to the songs. No one had seen a group like this in years, and they were lapping it up.

Paul knew he had some feminine highlights to his face: he’d been mocked since secondary school for his looks, so it wasn’t a surprise when some of the older guys in the club would shy away from the queer looking band on stage. It annoyed Paul to no end - it was 2020, for Christ’s sake - but some people just seemed set in their ways. 

No one would have expected even a hint of gay coming from the bands leader, John Lennon. John was presented as being an immovable heterosexual on stage - whistling the girls dancing for the perverted, old men, egging on the teenies who had come in to see the show and leering at the prostitutes hanging round the back of the club when they went for a smoke. So it was quite a surprise to everyone when he announced he had a boyfriend by snogging Paul right up on stage in front of a packed crowd.

Paul had accepted the kiss, already high on drugs and drink, and revelled in the way everyone faces seemed to be staring in disbelief at John. 

“Now I hope that answers all o’ you’re questions - I ain’t takin’ any of you back to me room because I’m already taken meself, alright?” He shouted, laughing at the looks of disappointment on the girls faces.

Paul laughed along too, bringing his boyfriend in for another scorching kiss, until Stu yelled for them to either stop or get off the stage.

***

Rory Storm and the Hurricanes were regulars at the club, as well as the Beatles. When they all had free time after their sets they’d hang out at one of the big tables and drink for hours together. Sometimes Stu went off with his new bird Astrid though, and Pete was always with some chick who had been gazing at him star struck, so it left Paul, John and George to talk to the others.

Paul had noticed that George was quite taken on the bands drummer, Ringo, and smiled knowingly at the way he’d blush every time Ringo would compliment his impressive guitar skills. Ah, young love.

He was sat pressed up next to John, the both of them secretly feeling each other up under the table while a hammered guy started talking to them about how he thought he was in love Harry Styles. Paul was sure if the guy remembered it in the morning, he’d be mortified for the rest of his life as he seemed the type to be slightly against all that “faggy” stuff. Paul was just glad he had a good visual in his mind of the hot musician, as he couldn’t properly look at his boyfriend while this guy was prattling on.

After a good ten minutes of restrained moaning as John continuously teased up the inside of his leg, Pete came over after probably finishing with his latest snatch. He looked excited and slightly tipsy as he yelled over the music to the rest of the them.

“Ay, did you guys know this club’s got a little room round the back with a pool table? I thought we could go round so we could try ta talk normally to each other.”

“Yeah? How’d you find it?” George piped up.

“Well... I was just with this girl and-“

“Ugh, you fucked her on it didn’t you?” John asked. Petes face started blushing red which was all the confirmation John needed. Paul started laughing at their embarrassed drummer.

“Wha- no!”

“Sure, mate. Alright let’s go see it. Who’s up for STRIP POOL!” John yelled.

The others shouted loudly in agreement and stood up, swaying. John and Paul stayed sat down for a few seconds longer, amused as they watched their friends try to balance correctly.

“But Johnny, you know I ain’t good at pool.” Paul whined. John raised his eyebrows, giving him a look that made Paul squirm slightly in his seat.

“Exactly.”

***

When they all finally stumbled into the room, Ringo was the first to see the speakers and claimed he was choosing the music for the night. 

As Paul looked round the small room, taking in the pool table in the middle, he heard the start of Roll Over Beethoven. 

“I love Chuck Berry!” George exclaimed. 

“That’s why I picked it,” Ringo said. George blushed slightly but Ringo was too busy picking songs to play to notice. Paul poked him in the side making kissy faces and George smacked him away. 

“Alright, there’ll be two teams. Every time a person from their team loses, the whole team has to take one piece of clothing off. And socks and shoes don’t count!” John said. He started writing on a scrap piece of paper the different games that would take place and who would play them while everyone got comfortable smoking and drinking on the couches which surrounded the small room. 

Paul took off his shoes and socks, thinking there would be no reason wearing them anyway, and stood waiting for the inevitable first game, when sure enough John looked up with a shit-eating grin. 

“Paulie and I are first up!” 

Paul rolled his eyes, but nevertheless got ready and made the balls into a perfect triangle in the middle. He was shit at pool, but if he was able to distract John in any way then maybe he’d have a fighting chance. He started slowly taking off his jacket, John clocking his every movement. 

“What ya doin’ that for? You’ll end up naked at the end, luv,” John said. 

Paul hummed and started raising his arms above his head, stretching out and making sure to look John directly in the eye while his partner paused before taking his first shot. 

“Oh, just bloody get on with it! Paul stop giving us a strip show, you can do that at the end when you lose,” George piped up. 

Paul laughed, but made sure that for the rest of their game he was either leaning over slightly just in front of John to hit the ball, or stood right next to him when John took his shots. 

***

It turned out that Paul’s team was just as shit as he was, so Paul was down to his underwear by the end of it. He noticed John kept throwing him glances and saw he’d only had to shed his jacket for the whole match. He’d have to rectify that. 

Once everyone was half naked and pleasantly tipsy they called the game off and went back into the club. Except for John and Paul, who stayed behind. 

As soon as the door shut, Paul was on John, removing his clothing quickly as John pushed him back against the pool table. 

“Are you serious? You want to fuck on the same table as Pete did just an hour before?” Paul said. 

“Beggars can’t be choosers, luv, and I’m beggin’ ya here. We haven’t been able to get any since we came and it’s doing me head in,” John said. 

Paul conceded as he felt the same, and laid back on the table while John shucked his pants off, Paul already reaching to tug off his underwear before John stopped him and leaned in for a kiss. Paul groaned messily - he had really missed being this close to John. 

Their hands roamed over each other, and Paul was just about to finally tug his strained underwear down, before they heard a cough from the door. 

Poor Ringo stood there, looking embarrassed at having interrupted the two horny, sex deprived teenagers, before speaking up. 

“Was just - just getting my phone. Forgot to get it before when I connected it with the speaker so I’ll - uh, I’ll just get it, two seconds,” he stuttered. 

Paul watched in fascination at how quickly Ringo seemed to dive for it and then run back out of the room and noticed in his haste that Ringo forgot to close the door. 

Paul sighed as he felt his momentary arousel soften and looked up to see John looking crestfallen at the drop in the mood. He giggled softly at his partners resigned face and pushed him off him. 

“I think we missed our opportunity, Johnny,” he said. 

John nodded and helped to pull him off the table. 

“Alright, lets get out of here then. Put your clothes back on though, or I’ll jump you again before we’ve even reached the door,” John chuckled. 

After Paul had regained his modesty, he slipped his hand into Johns and tugged him out of the room. 

“Come on, lets go find Georgie and scar him by forcin’ him to watch us kissing. I bet he was the one who had the idea to send in Ringo just to spite us, ya know.” Paul said. 

John agreed gleefully and shut the door behind him as they made their way over to a very drunk, unsuspecting George Harrison.


	3. Want To Be Closer To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lads get a few scrapes and bruises

The Beatles had finished their set about an hour ago, and Paul was pleasantly tipsy and high on the prellies that still hadn’t worn off. The others were sat round a table talking at the back of the room, but Paul had got bored and had unsuccessfully tried to persuade John to come dance with him. He was apparently ‘not in the mood’ and ‘talking to Stuart’, so Paul eventually dragged George on the dance floor instead.

They’d ended up twirling each other and laughing so hard that they’d been gasping for breath, until George had got distracted by a girl who had asked him to dance with her. Typical. Paul was left with no one to dance with now.

He looked over at John who was still in deep conversation with Stuart. In his tipsy state he could admit to himself that maybe he was a bit jealous that Johns attention wasn’t on him, but on Stuart. He knew that he shouldn’t be worried about anything happening - John would never - but it still pissed him off. And he didn’t want to be irritated, he wanted to have fun.

So instead of mourning over the lack of his boyfriends attention on him, Paul decided to make his own fun. There was a guy standing near the side with dark hair and a leather jacket on, alone. He looked about Paul’s age, maybe a bit older, and was the same height as him too. And in his intoxicated sense of mind, he immediately connected the poor guy with ‘dance partner’.

He ended up dragging the guy out of his seclusion with only a few sultry looks and a wink and finally he came out of his shell. He was spinning Paul around and dipping him and they were having so much fun that Paul felt high. They were playing modern, poppy tunes which Paul could appreciate even with his love of dirty rock’n’roll, until suddenly the DJ for the night started playing a more slow, romantic song.

Paul’s new dance partner started wrapping his arms round him, probably expecting to get some later, until John finally came to his senses and realised that Paul was more interesting than Stuart. Especially when someone else was slobbering all over the pretty bastard.

He’d moved the guys arms from around Paul’s shoulders and when the guy’d given this new stranger a questioning look, John seemed to realise that he’d have to get his point across more forcefully. 

“Fuck off, yeah?”

The guy looked a bit taken aback, and looked questioningly over at Paul when he realised that Paul only had eyes for John and that he had no chance. He nodded slightly and walked away, and Paul regretted the fact that he’d never got his name - he had been a laugh.

But he forgot about him when John suddenly kissed him full on the lips, until Paul was smiling and laughing again, and tugging John nearer.

“Johnny, dance with me!” 

“Why should I, when you were practically makin’ out with that guy?” 

“I s’only wants to dance and you‘s busy makin’ out with Stuart,” he pouted. 

“Wow you’re well sloshed aren’t you?” John grinned. 

Paul took that as a sign that he did want to dance and gently wound his arms round his boyfriends neck, slowly lying his head on Johns shoulder - it was starting to hurt with the loud music and him crashing off the prellies. As John moved them round to the beat, they swayed together, talking quietly about little bits they’d done while the other had been busy during their stay in Hamburg. 

It was blissful, and Paul couldn’t have been happier. He was a soppy romantic really, and when he got drunk it was just more apparent. Knowing that his Johnny, who was the bestest guy here, was all his, made Paul bring him even closer and kiss him gracelessly on the mouth. John huffed, exasperated with his clingy, drunk partner, but reciprocated happily. 

But their small, tender moment was interrupted. While Paul had been trying to get as close to John as possible, someone had accidentally bumped into him, causing him to stumble backwards slightly. At least, he’d thought it was accidental. It wasn’t until he heard what the man said that Paul realised that he’d just encountered another feckin homophobe.

“Englisch Kippe,” he muttered. 

Paul’s German was surprisingly good at picking up slurs and he turned sharply round, now feeling nearly completely sober.

“Zum Teufel hast du gerade gesagt, mate?” 

The man looked taken aback; he probably didn’t think Paul was going to understand him. 

“Oi, what’d he just say Paul?” John huffed behind him. He could see that the man wasn’t exactly being nice but he couldn’t understand what was being said - that was Paul and George’s job, seeing as they did German at school.

The man and Paul both ignored him as they continued staring each other down.

“Ich sagte, du bist eine verdammte Fee. Geh nach Hause, denn wir wollen hier keine Kotzen wie dich,” he spat at Paul’s feet. 

Paul put together the sentence with his limited vocabulary and moved towards the guy in a threatening manner. But surprisingly, John, who was always up for a fight, held him back and whispered in his ear.

“I have no idea what the fuck is goin’ on, but he doesn’t seem worth it, alright? Just ignore him.”

Paul nodded slowly and turned his back to the guy, moving closer to John who started swaying them away from him. Paul tried to let his frustration go at the mans hateful words, but he was still on high alert from what had transpired.

“das ist es, geh weg. Ich wette, deine Mutter hat dir diese Manieren beigebracht, oder? Ich wette, sie ist eine verdammte Schlampe,” he shouted after them.

It only happened in a few seconds, yet felt like a lifetime. Paul stiffened, his version turning red. No one fucking insulted his mum. 

He walked as if in slow motion up to the guy, who knew he’d provoked him now, and was expecting the attack. But the man didn’t block it at the right angle - he didn’t realise Paul was a leftie. 

Paul got a solid punch to the mans face, hyper on adrenaline and drink, and was about to turn round and go back to John until the guy seemed to recover seamlessly, and punched Paul back even harder. ‘He must love getting into fights, then’ Paul reasoned. No one came back that quickly from a hit as hard as that. Except maybe Johnny.

Paul’s vision went black around the edges as the floor rushed up to him. He tried to put his hands out to stop his fall, and landed awkwardly on his side. There was shouting all around them and the music had stopped. Paul felt blood drip down the side of his face and tried to get back up, but failed when he felt dizzy and nearly fell back on the ground.

He looked up, seeing the man walking towards him and braced himself for an attack, until two dark-haired, teddie boy quiffs got in the way of him. 

John hadn’t understood what the hell the guy had said, but he had heard the word ‘Mutter’ in there somewhere, and the reaction from Paul with the subsequent punch to his pretty face was enough to tell him this guy needed his face bashing in. He rushed towards him, aiming a punch, until he realised George had already gotten in there before him and had levelled the guy. They both then started pushing and punching, George shouting in a mixture of German and English at the guy. He got a few lucky hits, getting George’s nose with a flailing arm, but John just kept silently landing each of his punches until the man shrivelled up and ran back to the exit of the club.

They turned round to see a dishevelled Paul McCartney standing with the aid of Ringo, smiling goofily at them. 

***

“Ow, George!” Paul exclaimed.

“I know, I’m sorry, but if you don’t want it to flare up, I’ve gotta put ice on it luv,” George explained. Paul pouted, slumping back in the sink. 

After they’d been thrown out of the club, they’d stumbled back to the Bambi, Ringo coming with them to make sure everyone was alright. They’d pushed Paul into the men’s public toilets and Paul had decided to sit in the sink. His feet were tired, his head hurt and all he wanted to do was sleep off the hangover he was going to have tomorrow. 

Ringo stood next to him, googling what to do when your friend got punched in the head, with John pacing up and down the room.

“What’d he say, Paulie?” He asked quietly. Paul sniffled wetly.

“Called mum a bitch. And us two ‘fairies’. I just got angry, ya know?”

The room went silent as they contemplated what Paul had said. They knew Paul’s mum was a sore spot for him, as she’d sadly died when he was only fourteen. John felt for him even more then, his mum dying when he was seventeen still hurt, and if a bastard like that had come up and started cussing her out, he would have done more than just punch him. He now wished he’d done more damage to the coward.

“What a fucking arsehole. We’ll just tell Mark the bouncer not to let him back in.” George said. Paul hummed in agreement and closed his eyes. 

“Yeah, and if he does we’ll set Dingle Ringo on him,” John joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Aye, got me knife right here, just in case,” Ringo chuckled along.

A movie must have just finished then, as suddenly a load of guys came in. They looked disgruntled at the teenagers hanging around so they quickly got out, wanting to avoid another confrontation.

“We should meet up properly sometime, lads. You know, without all the drinking and drugs. We’ll have a late breakfast at that place down near the docks that everyone’s been banging on about. I wanna see how Paul’s face turns out,” Ringo said.

“Alright, Ritchie. We’ll plan it sometime soon,” George replied. John and Paul had already gone in the room.

“And make sure you tend to your nose, Georgie. I don’t think it’s broken but we can’t let your pretty face get damaged either,” Ringo said.

George blushed and stammered out a small ‘ok’ while Ringo smiled his beautiful sunshine smile at him. Most people thought from first glance that Ringo would shiv you in your sleep, his short height not compromising his scary aura at all. But really, he was a little sweetheart, which just made him even more amazing in Georges eyes.

“See you then, then.” 

George chuckled as he watched him go and then quickly made his way back into the room to make sure the McLennons weren’t doing anything unsavoury.

It turned out it was quite the opposite. John had lied a half unconscious Paul in their den, covering him with their blankets. George and John silently got changed, John only taking Paul’s tight leather trousers off so he’d be more comfortable in the night. They didn’t bother worrying about where Stuart and Pete had got off to, as they were probably only shagging some girls. 

George turned the light off, but just before he did he made out John curling up next to Paul, nuzzling his shoulder and stroking his already bruising cheek. George tried to resist the urge to roll his eyes and crawled into bed, eventually getting off to sleep while dreaming about seeing Ritchie again soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations - sorry if the German was terrible I’m not the best at languages and had to use google translate :
> 
> English Kippe = (English fag)
> 
> Zum Teufel hast du gerade gesagt, mate = (The fuck did you just say, mate?)
> 
> Ich sagte, du bist eine verdammte Fee. Geh nach Hause, denn wir wollen hier keine Kotzen wie dich = (i said, you're a fucking fairy. go home cause we don’t want poofs like you here).
> 
> das ist es, geh weg. Ich wette, deine Mutter hat dir diese Manieren beigebracht, oder? Ich wette, sie ist eine verdammte Schlampe = (thats it, walk away. bet your mother taught you those manners, huh? bet she's a fucking bitch)


	4. Not A Second Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is coming down with something and Paul is concerned like the absolute mother he is.

Paul woke up slowly, coming to consciousness because he felt something tickling his nose. It was slightly irritating so he tried moving his head away from said ticklish thing, but only accomplished getting more of it in his face. He finally opened his eyes to see he had a face full of Johns hair sticking up in every direction because his head was lying just beneath Paul’s chin, on his chest. 

He tried pushing some of the strands out of his face but was unsuccessful as they just sprung back up and he accidentally poked himself in the eye. He sighed and tried moving upwards slightly, but Johns grip around his waist tightened so much that he gave up. He could hear the others snoring in the room, George being the loudest as he seemed to be coming down with a cold. 

Paul’s mother hen instincts screamed at him to go and help his best friend, but his boyfriend suffocating him stopped him from moving. He didn’t know whether it was early morning or still nighttime, as they had no windows in their room, and decided that he wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon anyway with the lump on him. So he leaned back slowly, trying not to disturb John, and stared at the ceiling as he started stroking up and down Johns back.

Hamburg was loud and musical and everything Paul had wanted it to be. He had made tons of new friends, including Astrid, Jürgen and Klaus. Astrid was mostly attached to Stuart, but her photographs were amazing; Jürgen was a laugh and confident in not following the normal fashion trends and Klaus had been quite taken with Georgie, drawing him often when they were performing or in the Bambi.

Their playing was getting phenomenally better on stage, even with all the laughing, drinking and kissing that did go on. They were slightly unprofessional, cursing and swearing at the people watching them, but the girlie fans seemed to love them and the owner was impressed with their musicality.

Being in a fifties themed band meant they had a few oldies - but that didn’t mean they were bad songs. Rock’n’roll was the best thing to happen to Paul since he learned to play the piano - it had meant he had befriended George with their shared love of music and he had met John through the music too, bonding with him over writing songs and their shared sense of humour. Their new songs meant that even more people liked them as well, coming to listen to just their originals sometimes, which thrilled Paul - it made him think that they really might be going somewhere. 

Speaking of John, he started shuffling around, obviously disturbed by the hand tickling his back and Paul’s loud thinking. He nuzzled his head into him, before blearily lifting it to peer at him. Paul reached for Johns glasses to stick them on his nose and giggled at his obviously dead-tired boyfriend.

“Your bed head is really cute,” he whispered.

John smiled dreamily and snuggled back down into him, smoothing his hand over his hair to try and contain it somehow. He then started roaming his hands over Paul’s body, squeezing his arse and kissing his neck softly, with Paul groaning quietly underneath him. 

But as John was getting comfortable, George started hacking and coughing in his sleep and Paul looked over concerned. His brow furrowed as he saw his friend curl into himself and decided to go see if he really was ok.

He gently removed John from his body, saying he was just going for a quick pee. He did, and when he came back, George seemed to have woken himself up with his coughing, John looking on silently as he tried to make himself more awake.

Paul walked over to George’s bed, getting in next to him silently. John whined from their den, complaining that he was cold without Paul now, but Paul shushed him quietly.

“Alright Georgie?” He asked.

He started threading his hands through George’s mass of, honestly, beautiful hair, stroking his forehead in little circles while his friend frowned his unruly eyebrows and tried to bat his hand away.

“Ssh stop fussing. I’m just strokin’ your hair.”

“M’not a baby,” George muttered.

“I never said you were. I’m just trying to make you feel better. Now shush, and try and go back to sleep, I think it might still be nighttime.”

George muttered quietly to himself before he quickly gave up to the nice feeling of someone stroking his hair gently. Paul saw him slowly drifting off to sleep again, and his eyes caught his own finger nails. They were all chewed from his constant biting of them, but what struck his attention was his chipped nail polish. He took his hand from George’s hair and closely inspected them in the dark, until George started coughing again and he placed them back in his hair.

George curled into him and, half asleep, started talking utter nonsense.

“You smell really nice.”

John laughed from their bed, trying to muffle it in the crook of his arm. Paul looked up and smiled over at John.

“But - if yous steals the blankets, I‘m gonna put theses cold feets on yous,” he slurred. Paul laughed silently at the babble George was producing in his half awake state and could see John dying out the corner of his eye.

“Ok Georgie, you punish me with your long, cold toes if I do anything bad, yeah?” He chuckled quietly. George seemed to nod slightly before he started snoring again a few moments later. 

Paul untangled himself from his friend, and walked back over to John, who welcomed him with open arms and a big grin on his face.

“You’re such a softlad, bunny. Now come give me cuddles, I’m sick too, ya know,” he pouted.

Paul huffed a laugh, curling into him, and started stroking Johns hair now instead. He just hoped the next time he woke up, George would be feeling a bit better.

***

When they did finally wake up properly, it was about eleven A.M, the earliest they’d been awake in a long time, and Paul decided they should go meet Ritchie at that place he wanted to go check out. George had said someone had recommended it to him, and that he’d been itching to go. So he’d texted Ringo, asking him if it was still on, and got a reply straight away saying he was already there and would love for them to come along.

He announced to the band, minus Stu who was at Astrid’s house, that Ritchie wanted them to meet him there, and everyone agreed to head over, George looking a bit more perky now he had the excitement of seeing his crush once again. Paul noticed he still coughed and looked tired, but it wasn’t anything too bad, and he would be ok. Paul reckoned it was probably the smoking, a nasty habit they had all picked up as teenagers, and gave himself a reminder that they should try and stop.

They all set off heading down to the docks, John and Paul holding hands and George and Pete ahead of them, talking about who knows what. John swung their hands, and every now and then squeezed it when a small breeze caused them to shiver. 

When they did get to the place, it looked a lot like an American diner, with booths and a bar in the middle. They spotted Ritchie on his phone waiting for them, and George rushed over to say hi excitedly. Him and Ringo sat on one side of the table, while Paul was squeezed in next to the window and John, with Pete at the end on the other side.

They started looking over the menu, counting out how much money they could actually spend altogether, and John and Paul decided to share a plate to cut costs.

By the time the food did come, they were all starving and dived in. George especially, who was hungry all the time anyway, gracelessly shoved his food in his gob, with Ringo watching on, impressed.

Pete eventually saw a girl he knew over at another table, and excused himself to go sit with her, Paul thinking he was probably hoping to have sex with her before twelve. John faked gagged next to him and George joined in, making sick noises into his glass, before they started laughing into their food when Pete turned and gave them a dirty look when the girl had looked over, mildly concerned.

When Paul decided he’d had enough, he leaned back, and put his arm round John who was still eating. He got his little notebook he always carried around out of his pocket, and started thinking up ideas for their next song, with John and George chiming in at the right times to add ideas. Ringo looked on in fascination, sometimes even adding drum beats they could try out, with Paul nodding gladly.

“Hey, maybe Ringo could join the band! We’ve been meanin’ to kick out Pete for some time now, and you’d fit in perfectly! I mean, Petes a great guy, but he can’t hold a beat to save his life,” George said.

“Yeah, just sits there lookin’ pretty for the girls while we do all the hard work!” John said.

Ringo looked like he was contemplating it for a moment, looking at George for a second before replying.

“I dunno, fellas. I mean, Rory’s band is doing great, ya know? And Pete’d definitely need to be out before I thought about it. But I’m not against it - you all seem like loads of fun,” Ringo smiled. 

George smiled back bashfully and looked down at his food. John looked knowingly over at Paul whilst Ringo watched his crush with heart eyes, and Paul tried to stop himself from laughing. 

“Well, you’re always welcome, Rings. Your ideas have really helped with this song and it’s not like we can say the same for Pete. We’re gonna need that when we get bigger,” Paul said.

Ringo nodded, and Paul went back to writing their song, John’s hand obviously doing something to him below the table. It seemed to remind poor Ringo of their previous encounter.

“And, uh - as for that night, when um, you know I walked in? I’m - uh - sorry about that. And hope that it’s not created anything weird between us, ya know?” Ringo asked.

John looked up with a cheeky grin.

“Did ya see anything you shouldn’t have seen, lad?” He asked. Ringo’s eyes widened. 

“No! I swear, my eyes were lookin’ no where near ya the whole time,” he said.

“Well then, that’s alright. Just don’t actually come in when you’ve already seen we’re doing stuff next time, yeah? I thought you were gonna try and join in or something,” John quipped.

Ringo’s face went dark red, and Paul slapped John on the arm.

“Stop makin’ him uncomfortable - we want him in the band, don’t we?” Paul asked. John looked bashfully down at the table.

“Sorry, honey. Just tying to have a bit of fun.”

“Well don’t say sorry to me, say it to Ritchie,” Paul laughed as John started acting out, looking overly apologetic.

“I’m so, so sorry Ritchie. I never meant to cause you any gay feelings when you saw me pants round me ankles and-“

Paul slapped a hand over his mouth and didn’t even remove it when he licked him. John raised his eyebrows.

“Kinky,” he winked, his voice muffled, and Paul burst out laughing.

“What?” 

The others looked over to see George looking very confused which just set Paul off again.

“Don’t ask, Georgie,” Ringo replied, “don’t ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment 😊


	5. Hold Me Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long nights are catching up to John and Paul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the original idea I had, which then eventually turned out into this big story!! I hope you find it fluffy and cute 😊

Paul was sitting in the band’s back bed room after playing for 8 hours in the Indra club. He was surrounded on his bunk bed by ratty blankets, their British flags that they’d brought from home and lots of cushions from the nightclubs, which John had stolen whilst they’d been there. With no pillows in their room, John’d got the next best thing and had just started piling them up on their bed when he’d stolen one too many. Paul had placed them all so that he’d made a little den for himself and his boyfriend on the bottom bunk and thought he’d actually made quite a cosy little nest for them. 

Paul’s fingers had started hurting from playing so much for the past few nights, so instead of writing his letters to his family like he sometimes did - old Jim still didn’t understand email - he was reading a book. He’d been playing, drinking, taking prellies and having fun with the lads till the early morning for 3 days straight and had decided that after they’d finished their set that night he was going to go to bed early. 

He’d excused himself from hanging with the others, washed up the best he could with the sinks they had and put on a comfy t shirt and some pants. He was lying on top of his blankets, just relaxing and listening to the low hum made from all the people downstairs in the club. It was so peaceful and relaxing that he found himself drifting off. 

However, he was suddenly disturbed by the door opening. When he looked up to see who it was, he saw John come in. John didn’t look like his usual arrogant, wild, crazy self - the one which Paul loved. Instead Johnny looked shattered, and that was putting it mildly: his hair had flattened from the humidity and his once teddy hairdo, which the band had stolen from the fifties, was now deflated and hung limply against his forehead. At least, Paul thought, he looked like he’d washed, as his shirt was different and he’d taken off his leather trousers. 

Paul carried on reading his book, content with the quiet that he and John shared. He eventually came over, after he’d sorted his stuff out, and pecked Paul lightly on the lips, which he leaned into. John smiled slightly at him and traced his finger down his cheek before getting up quickly again. Paul smiled back and watched him go, going back to reading his book. 

It wasn’t until Paul felt a weight press against him suddenly that he came out of his sleepy trance. He lowered his book to see John’s body spread out on the bed, with his head in Paul’s lap. 

He chuckled softly and put his book down to the side. 

“What’s wrong luv?” he murmured. 

John mumbled something which Paul couldn’t hear with his face pressed into his shirt, so he asked him to say it again. John lifted his head up slightly, eyes closed still, and repeated what he said. 

“Tired,” he moaned. He plonked his head back down where it was before and breathed out a sigh. 

Paul hummed and started stroking his hair absentmindedly while he considered his poor boyfriend. He loved it when John went all soft like this because Paul was pretty sure he was the only one who got to see John like this. 

“Yeah, with the timetable they got us on I’m knackered meself,” he said gently. 

John nodded into Paul’s stomach and then the room went quiet again except for the sounds of Paul’s hand stroking and scratching the back of Johns head. They stayed like that for who knows how long, until Paul put his head back and started drifting off to the sounds of their rhythmic breathing. 

But of course the silence had to be broken when George had to go and open the door. 

“Oh dear god,” he screeched. 

Paul looked up quickly, thinking something had happened, before he saw it was only George’s horrified face resolutely not looking anywhere near Paul and Johns little den. 

“Oh Geo, wait, it’s not what you think, mate,” Paul said. 

“His face is literally on your dick, Paul!”

“My dick ain’t that far up my body Georgie,” he calmly answered. 

“Good point,” George stated. He still sounded reluctant to step into the room though. 

“Well are you coming in then?” Paul asked, annoyed. 

“Yeah, yeah...” George seemed to hover weirdly before suddenly John spoke up, probably annoyed that he’d been woken up from his dose. 

“Get in here Harrison,” he growled from his place on Paul’s t-shirt. 

“Alright, alright. Just don’t do anything weird in your little love nest while I’m in here, ok?”

“John, luv, were we even considering doing anything weird?” Paul asked the lump on him. 

John barely shook his head, not bothering to look up. 

“There, see.”

George then seemed to understand that John was too tired to be doing anything horrifically sexual with his Paulie and stepped properly into their room. He started walking around, fishing out his night wear stuff and rubbing at his tired eyes and Paul definitely didn’t think it was one of the cutest things he’d ever seen.

George started chatting about the gig while he was getting ready for bed. Pete had been there for once, and Stu had actually been better on bass. He’d been making eyes at Astrid the whole time though, which George said was getting on his nerves. Poor Georgie had never had anyone like that, so Paul knew it was just because he was probably a bit jealous.

Whilst they had been talking, though, Paul had accidentally stopped stroking Johns hair as he’d been focused more on the conversation. It wasn’t until John groped around Paul’s body and finally found and grabbed his hand to put it back on his head that he realised that he’d stopped. Whilst Paul stared dumbly down, trying to figure out what just happened, John had started whining, until Paul finally got the hint that he wanted stroking again. 

Paul wondered then if John’s love for cats was slowly turning him into one. He giggled slightly at the image of John looking like a cute, cuddly little cat until they were interrupted once more. 

“Not again! Bloody hell, do you two ever stop!?” exclaimed Stuart. 

George started to explain then that they weren’t doing anything sexual on Paul’s bed, and that, in fact, they were just being so disgustingly cute that it made George want to throw up. 

Paul drowned their voices out as he let his mind drift. Stu was one to talk - sucking faces with Astrid all the time. Paul was surprised he was even here; he normally slept at Astrid’s house. 

Pete eventually got back to their room as well, probably after he’d shagged all the girl available, and those that weren’t, downstairs. He looked at Paul and John in bed before looking away, thinking nothing of it. That’s what Paul liked about Pete. He was a laid back guy who was easy and comfortable to be around. Paul only saw Pete get angry when someone slagged him or one of his band mates off. He wouldn’t admit it to the others, but it honestly terrified Paul when Pete got physical in a fight. 

Paul liked sleeping in Hamburg because with all the band in one room it was like one massive sleepover that went on forever. Sure, it had its negatives - like when Georgie and the others walked in on him and John doing things. But overall, Paul just liked the freedom of it: how they could all stay up and chat until they drifted off to sleep, how they all went out eating together at the little cafes around the city, and how he got to play every night with his best mates being the madlads that they were. 

While he was thinking, Paul let his eyes wander lazily around the room - they’d already seen each other naked loads of times anyway. His gaze lingered on George when he noticed him struggling: he was obviously a bit tipsy and the prellies were starting to wear off so he was crashing hard. But that didn’t stop Paul from finding it funny when he saw him stuck in his trousers. 

He was trying to get them off unsuccessfully in the most George way. They’d obviously started sticking to his skin, the leather being coated in sweat and being too tight, and he was hanging half off the bed as he tried to pull them by tugging hard. 

Paul smothered his face in Johns hair to try and hide his giggling, but George still picked up on it. 

“Oi! Shut up McCartney! You have the same bloody problem - you just have John to help you out. I haven’t got anybody.”

“Well I wish I could help you out, Georgie, but my fingers still hurt from playing,” he said. 

“They do?” John looked up. Paul nodded slightly and John pouted empathetically. He took Paul’s right hand and placed kisses all over the tips of his fingers until Paul was giggling from it tickling. 

“I swear to god - I’m gonna die here. I want to as well - having to look at you two bein’ disgustin-“

“Stop whining Geo, I’ll help you out,” Pete spoke up. George blushed slightly but let him tug them off finally. He panted after all the exertion which set Paul off again. George just sent him a dark glare. 

After that, nothing much eventful happened. Stu, George and Pete all got into bed and were pretty much dead as soon as their heads touched the pillows. Paul decided he’d get off to sleep now, too, and looked down at John. He pulled his hands out of Johns hair, who whined at first, but Paul soothed him by running his finger along the shell of his ear. 

“Move down a bit luv. Wanna get comfortable,” he whispered. 

“Ok, pud,” he murmured back, half asleep. 

Paul smiled affectionately at the nickname, snuggling down next to him, and gently traced his finger down Johns beautiful Roman nose. He gave it a quick kiss after and John smiled gently, eyes still closed. 

George’s loud “yuck” from his own bed was ignored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter tomorrow eek!


	6. You Really Got A Hold On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally decided to take action

Paul didn’t know why or how, but The Beatles had been told they wouldn’t have to play for as long in the Indra that night, which he was very thankful for. The long nights of playing and even longer nights of drinking and laughing had really gotten to him physically, as he was waking up in cold sweats and feeling really hungover and tired in the mornings. Paul had noticed that the others weren’t being as badly effected as he was and that John had started fussing over him like the true mother hen he was. He was even worse than Paul when it came to people he loved, and that was saying something. 

But knowing they were going to bed earlier that night made up for all the negative feelings. Their set was crazy, with dancing, strippers, bar fights and many shots. Paul had been wild after they’d finished their set, and when they’d been sitting round a table, talking with the Hurricanes, his legs wouldn’t stop jittering and he couldn’t stop biting his fingernails so that he’d had something to do. He guessed it was all the excess energy after being used to playing for longer. 

After eventually getting bored of talking to one of Rory’s mates, a guy he’d dragged along to Germany who’d pretended to be a back up guitar player but had no idea what he was doing with the thing, Paul turned to John to ask when they were heading up to bed, as he was getting tired. He found the table partially empty, with no sign of Stuart, Pete or Ringo. John was talking to George quietly, their heads close together, until Paul watched George get up shakily and walk towards one of the pretty German teens at the bar. Paul guessed that he was going over to ask her for a good time. 

John turned to Paul then, wearing a devilish smile on his face. It made Paul suddenly feel extremely awake, as that smile only brought mischief. 

“Paul and I are ‘eading up to bed, alright lads?” He said. 

“Ahhh, John! Johnny! Issso early - where ya goin’?” Paul noticed then that Rory was well sloshed, slurring his words, and hoped he would go up to bed himself soon. 

“Got some song writin’ to do, haven’t we Paul? You just keep drinkin’, mate. We’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

And with that, John took Paul’s hand and escaped the packed club. They held hands all the way to the Bambi, walking close together as their leather jackets wouldn’t keep out the cold. 

Paul was then dragged gently up to their room by John, who had a determined look on his face. Once they were inside, he shut the door behind them, and placed an old chair underneath the handle so it wouldn’t open. 

“Why you lockin’ the door, John? We’ll just have to unlock it for the others again when they get back,” he said. 

“No we won’t.” 

Paul looked up then, confused. 

“Why not?”

“I’ve made sure they aren’t comin’ back,” John said. Paul gasped jokingly. 

“You killed them!”

“Wha- no!”

“And I’m next! That’s why you locked the door!” Paul said, making sure to overdramatise by putting his hand over his mouth. 

“No!” John laughed, “I just made sure they were all occupied for a bit... Stu’s off with Astrid again, Pete’s gone off with one of his many girls, and I persuaded George to go ask that girl near the bar out. So that they won’t be comin’ back here anytime soon, and we can get some proper alone time.”

“Ahhh, so you’ve been using that silver tongue of yours,” Paul winked. 

“Yeah and I’ll be using it again tonight,” he answered back playfully. 

He leaned in and started kissing Paul gently, using his hands to hold onto his waist. Paul reciprocated, placing his arms round Johns shoulders and scratching at the back of Johns head while he shuddered delightfully at the ticklish spot. They kept on kissing, hands feverishly groping each other all over, until Paul abruptly pulled away. 

“Am I taller than you?”

John groaned and placed his head in Paul’s neck. 

“Paul, babe, you’re killin’ the mood.”

“I swear I am - I’ve not noticed until now. By at least an inch as well,” he carried on. 

“Yeah an inch I make up with my dick,” John retorted. Paul sighed knowingly. 

“True”

“Yep. Now shut up and get on with it.”

“Such a romanti-oh,” Paul stuttered, feeling John kissing up his neck and along his jaw. He stood revelling in the feeling of John being so close. But not close enough. It had been far too long. 

Paul sprung into action then, pulling a complacent John over to their little den in the corner, and lowering him down so he could get on top. He climbed over his partner, until their legs slotted together and Paul let out his first moan as their touch deprived members finally connected. 

“This is gonna be some of the best sex we’ve ‘ad in a long time,” John groaned, flipping them over so he could look down at Paul. 

“Yeah? Well shut up and get on with it then,” Paul retorted. The repeated words from before made John grin down at his boyfriend, who smiled back.

“There ain’t no fucking way anyone’s interruptin’ us now - and if they do I’m definitely gonna have several things to say about it,” John promised. 

Paul couldn’t agree more. 

***

+1

Paul had been with John at the time.

They’d been holding on to each other for balance as they ventured up the streets, laughing at anything around. John kept tripping over things because he’d forgotten his glasses, and that paired with his drunk demeanour meant Paul had to keep guiding him around when he stumbled slightly. It was a bitterly cold night, and Paul had given John his leather jacket because John had left his own in their room and wouldn’t stop moaning at being chilly. Paul himself was freezing now, but the brisk pace he was pulling them at meant they would hopefully get back to the Bambi soon.

The luminous rainbow lights were always bright at night, some with screens that would have a slideshow of promiscuous pictures which people had taken inside the brothels. They lightened the streets to show the many people still out at this, admittedly, very late hour. Hamburg’s streets never slept; there was always someone around.

A shirtless, obviously plastered guy came shuffling down the street, holding an empty bottle and steering unknowingly towards them. John whistled as he squinted over at him. Paul laughed loudly at the fact that he probably thought it was one of the prossies, and shoved at the guy in another direction when he came too close, not wanting to collide. 

Hamburg was like that, with random strangers looking on the verge of breakdown with you not knowing what could trigger them into doing something crazy. Paul thought he should probably feel scared, but he never did with John around. Even when drunk, John could give as good as he got, and he gave *a lot*. Paul always asked where he learnt it from, but John would always tell a joke or masterfully change the subject. Paul could swing a few punches too, obviously, but hated getting hit back. He was just glad he could feel safe with John around, and the fact that he knew Johnny would never go after him like that meant he was never afraid to tease or provoke him.

While Paul had been thinking about his boyfriends strong muscles, said boyfriend tripped for real while he’d been absentmindedly thinking about him. Paul caught him just in time and raised Johns arm so it went round his shoulder, but John just took that as an invitation to pull him closer and nuzzle into his neck. Paul would never admit he actually squealed at Johns ice cold nose.

They got through the winding, never ending side streets until they finally arrived at the Bambi. Paul shoved the back door open with his shoulder, and pulled John in behind him until they were stumbling up the stairs. Paul saw a light under their bedroom door and placed John next to it so he was leaning on the wall while he went to turn the handle. John closed his eyes and looked like he was falling asleep stood up, and Paul thought to himself the sooner he put him in bed, the sooner he could stop worrying about him collapsing down the stairs. He went to open the stiff door and pushed it open.

And screamed loudly.

His hand had gone to his mouth as he stared into the room, horrorstruck. John suddenly startled, alert and looking ready to take fight or flight. He rushed over behind Paul, moving him back from the terror that was going on in their room only to see...

Little Georgie Porgie on top of Dingle Ringo, obviously having a bit of a fun time in George’s bed, by the looks of their sweaty and red bodies. And George’s arse so lovingly on display.

They were both looking over at the door, their eyes filled with fear and embarrassment at having being caught together, while Paul’s repeated muttering of “oh my god, oh my god,” and high pitched screeching finally turned Johns eyes worriedly over to him. He was a pale white, and his mouth was permanently hanging open. George still hadn’t thought to cover his arse.

John decided to take charge, the shock making him suddenly sober.

“Ok: Harrison, put somethin’ over your fuckin’ arse. Ringo, clean yourselves up, Macca and I are just gonna wait out here till you’re done, alright? Come on pud, nice and easy, come here,” he cooed at his comatose boyfriend. 

He backed them out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind them, not missing Ringo’s mumble of being ‘just about to finish as well’ and George’s whining humiliation at his best friend seeing him like that.

“Come on, Macca luv, it wasn’t too bad. I mean, you’ve seen me in worse positions, for Christ’s sake. Just take deep breaths, alright,” he said soothingly. Paul looked on the edge of hyperventilating.

They stayed outside, waiting for the others to finish - poor choice of words - while Paul started to calm down, clamping his hand on Johns arm.

“John,” he whispered wetly, “its ingrained in my brain. I can’t stop seein’ it,” he looked up helplessly, “help me.”

“It wasn’t that bad Paul, luv. If anythin’, they looked pretty hot like tha-“

“It was George’s ARSE John,” Paul yelled dramatically, “oh my go- what am I gonna do!? I can’t look him in the eyes now- I’ll just be thinkin’ about his fuckin’ arse-“

“Woah, hold on a minute! You can’t be thinkin’ about his arse all the time - it’s my arse you should be dreamin’ about,” John argued back.

“I know, luv, you’ve got a gorgeous arse and I love it to pieces, but I’ve been TRAUMATISED and I can’t-“

The door opened slightly, then, and George’s sorrowful head stuck out. He looked like he’d been listening, as he couldn’t look Paul in the eyes and it seemed to trigger Paul completely.

“YOU! How could you DO THIS TO ME!? Talkin’ ‘bout how we can’t be doing nothin’ while you’re around, not even a PECK, while you’re here SHAGGIN’ RINGO - and WHEN was I goin’ to be told about that happenin’ - and us bein’ so considerate, fuckin’ LOCKIN’ the bloody door, while you have the AUDACITY, being like my younger brother, to just let me walk in and see YOUR ARS-“

George’s hand clamped over his mouth, but Paul was too angry to lick it back, breathing heavily through his nose.

“I’m sorry, Paul, I really am. I never meant to show you me behind, and we were gonna lock the door but I got... distracted and I just forgot...” he trailed off.

They stared at each other, until after what felt a lifetime for John and Ringo who were looking helplessly on the side, Paul nodded slightly and George removed his hand. They breathed in and out for a bit, until they’d both calmed down.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expectin’ that,” Paul muttered quietly.

George hummed appreciatively and tugged him in the room so they were sitting on Petes bed. John trailed in after them, and looked appraisingly at Ringo.

“So, how long have you two been gettin’ it on, then?” He asked.

“Um... since the diner. When you two left, we sorta hung out for a bit at the docks and kissed. It just kinda happened,” George replied. Paul huffed, annoyed that he’d been kept in the dark for so long.

“I was gonna tell you, Paul, I swear, but you were so tired and sick and I knew you couldn’t take being a mother hen when you were like that - you’d be gettin’ so worried for no reason and it would’ve just made ya feel worse,” George smiled. 

Paul considered him; his excuse sounded valid, even if it sounded like he had just made it up on the spot. Paul admitted he could go a bit over the top when it came to George - the lad was seventeen, only a few months younger than him - and that he probably would have worried himself sick over nothing. Ringo was a lovely guy, and he knew Georgie would put him right anyway if he ever did do anything wrong.

Speaking of Ringo, he was still sat on George’s bed, now smoking a cigarette, looking so calm it should have been illegal. John had joined him, puffing lazily on his own ciggie, and Paul absently thought he looked fucking hot like that.

“So, ‘ow was it? The sex, I mean?” John asked.

Ringo looked at him, trying to see if he was being serious. Paul knew he was - he’d known Johnny for a long time now and knew he was a dirty pervert. Ringo glanced over at George and smiled warmly.

“Best I ever had, even if it did get interrupted,” he replied.

“Well we’re even now, mate. This has more than made up for you walking in on us - we’ve got special bond now,” John looked up at him and fluttered his eyelashes.

Ringo chuckled and pushed his face away lightly, John laughing along.

Paul had noticed George blush at Ringo’s casual comment, and smirked inwardly. After he’d got over the trauma of George’s arse, he was gonna tease him over this for life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finish my exams today!! That means I’m going to have loads more time to write as much as I want concerning the Beatle boys! I started writing because I am a terrible procrastinator when it comes to exams and I had an idea for a fic, and now I’ve ended up writing over 20,000 words combined. I’m not gonna be ashamed to admit that I’m pretty proud of myself 😊 Ive actually discovered that I take a lot of joy out of writing and think it’s really fun! 
> 
> Little bit about me - I’m sixteen, a non- tea drinking British person (I know, scandalous) and love the Beatles 👋🏻
> 
> I’ve never written before and really look for approval from you all that my writing isn’t terrible - I try to add drama and humour in equal bits and I hope that comes through. If you do find bits that could be improved, please tell me cause I always want to get better!! If there’s any prompts you want to see come to life please comment them below as well and I’ll try to do something good with them - I have loads of time now eeek 😁
> 
> Thank you for everyone who has left kudos and comments on my stories - I love checking to see if any come up and it always makes me excited when all you lovely people do! I’ll definitely be posting again soon so look out for me at Soul_Shuffler 💕
> 
> I hope you all have a good rest of your day 👍🏻

**Author's Note:**

> In the middle of exams, so any comments and kudos really make my days a bit brighter! Hope you enjoyed it and leave any criticism - I want to get better! Xx


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